I finally added a link to an article that has been pivotal in my ongoing development as an improvising musician. I do not agree with every single thing he said in that article, but I agree with a lot of it. Some choice passages:
The ideal type of improviser, which I strive to become:
There are three basic types of improvisers, the foremost being "the creator," who has an insatiable need to tell his story. For him, improvisation is only a tool. He plays each solo as if it were his last. He will not be compromised, nor will he be stopped.
I believe this applies to several types of instrumentalists, not just guitarists:
Regardless of the style of music, guitarists are such an insular group that they have become incestuous. They never listen to other instruments, but instead feed upon each other. It's no wonder that everyone sounds the same.
On musicians that all jazz improvisers should know:
I'm always slightly amused when I see a magazine mention Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, or John Coltrane along with an identification of their instrument. How can anyone think of being a musician and not be familiar with these men? If you ever hope to be a serious improviser, you have to know what, how, and why these and many others contributed to improvisation.
On freedom and improvisation:
Finally, there is freedom--the most misunderstood and the most misused of all these elements. Freedom grows out of improvisation. It is both your emotional peak and your deeper self. It is the cry of jazz. The one rule for playing free is that you can play anything you want. A critic once remarked to me that it takes a great amount of taste to play free. He was wrong. Artists cannot be hampered by the restriction of taste. What playing free does take is imagination and confidence. In free playing, there is nothing else to stand on; it's like walking in space. If you're confident, you will not fall. The road forms beneath your feet as your imagination takes you places arrived at by no other means. My confidence in the beauty of the music carries me through.
On soloing as art:
Your solo should be a work of art, not a technical display, which is the most difficult part to trying to create great work. Your work must be great, or it is nothing. There is no middle ground. A couple of years ago I toured Europe playing duos with saxophonists and other guitarists. We played in museums, coffee houses and anyplace where 20 to 30 people could fit into. I took these gigs partly as a challenge, because I wanted to see if I could make music without a rhythm section behind me. About halfway through the first set on the first night, I realized that I had not gone to any of the beautiful places that music always takes me. Instead, I was struggling to come up with ideas and devices to make the music meaningful. I failed. Night after night I failed. Duke Ellington was right, when he stated the first rule of music in his song title "it Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing." I had forgetton this. I was trying to be interesting and clever, but instead I ended up playing bullshit.
On swing in jazz improvisation:
Music can be played at breakneck tempos, or as slow as the most painful blues. It can be composed or improvised, but swing it must. The swing that I use is the same swing that Benny Moten spoke of in the 1930s, that Bird and Dizzy used in the 50s, that Thelonious Monk turned inside out and Miles turned into a groove, and that Coltrane, Ornette, and Cecil Taylor set free. Goddammit, you really can't play without it!
On craft and equipment:
All great improvisers spend many years developing their own sound. On the other hand, many guitarists buy their sound in little boxes, or, if they can afford it, in rack-mounted "stairways to heaven." If their individuality is ever questioned, they just point to their digital read-outs to show that their numbers are different from the other guy's in town. Ultimately, your sound is your hands. It may take a lifetime for it to reach its fullness, but playing is a lifetime gig. if you're not totally serious, do yourself and the world a favor and just do weddings, or buy a can of mousse and become a 6-string gladiator from hell and make some money.
And finally, the powerful conclusion:
Remember that your improvisation must have feeling. It must swing and it must have beauty, be it the fragile beauty of a snowflake or the terrible beauty of an erupting volcano. Beauty--no matter how disturbing or how still--is always true. Don't be afraid to let go of the things you know. Defy your weaker, safer self. Create. Make music.
very nice, I haven't listened to enough Sharrock. But, he hits it right on the money, I started feeling and playing a lot better when I stopped thinking of myself as a guitarist, and focused on the music.
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